iDouble Take
by afanoffanfic
Summary: The iCarly gang are in their senior year at Ridgeway. Sam finds herself growing out of her role as the meat-eating tough girl and wants to be taken more seriously. SPAM.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: First, I do not own iCarly, nor do I own the Oscar Mayer Weiner jingle, or any variety of Disney princess Last, this is a SPAM story. As such, it is somewhat OOC. Nevertheless, I like it and hope you will too. Pls let me know!

Chapter One

Spencer cruised to a stop in front of the school, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm of a random snippet of song that kept looping through his head. He hadn't been all that surprised to get the call from Sam asking if he would mind coming to pick her up. ..

Carly and her entourage were attending Ridgeway's winter formal, and while the friends had rented a limo for the occasion, Sam was feeling like something of a third wheel. Carly, Freddie and Gibby all had dates and had pressed Sam into joining them, flying solo – because, as Carly insisted, the winter formal "is simply NOT be missed!" Sam did not particularly enjoy playing dress up; it reminded her too much of parading across the stage in her pageant days, trying to impress bored judges with her so-called poise, talent and conversational skills. To this day no one really believed that she'd been a pageant girl, and truthfully she preferred it that way.

It wasn't that she didn't like people, well, ok, she really didn't like people. A specific person, sure, she could be friendly with _a person_, but people in general, as a group? She had no use for them. It's like when people got together, they were no longer capable of thinking for themselves. They gravitated together for the sole purpose of seeing their own reflection bounce back from the faces around them. Sam hated conformity. She hated the jostling for social position. She didn't care who was the most popular, or who had the best car, or whose boyfriend scored the most points in the basketball game. In the whole scheme of things, how was any of that really important? Somehow she doubted that anyone would understand this even if she could find a way to explain it, which she was going to have to do as soon as she found Carly to let her know she was bailing. No way was she staying in this crowded gym with these vapid girls and their strutting guys for a single moment longer.

Hiking her gown up enough to reach the cell phone strapped to her thigh (you never knew when you might have an urgent need to order take out, thus the phone,) Sam made a beeline for the door. She paused only long enough to snag Gibby's arm (thank goodness it was Gibby, thus sparing her - for the time being - from being lectured by Carly about the importance of attending social events,) to shout in his ear that she was leaving, catch you later, have fun, whatever. Slipping through the doors with a sigh of relief, she dialed the familiar number and pressed the phone to her ear.

Spencer had to smile when he heard the phone; it was impossible not to. In fact, he had to make a conscious effort not to sing along lest the tune get stuck in his head. There it went again - "Oh I wish I were an Oscar Mayer Weiner; that is what I truly want to be. 'Cause if I were an Oscar Mayer Weiner, everyone would be in love with me!" He picked up the phone before it started another round of her signature ringtone, saying simply "Hiya Sam!"

"Spence, come and get me, please?"

"Ah," he replied sympathetically. "Reached the end of your tolerance for overdressed, hormonally challenged teenagers, have you?"

"You can say that again," she grumbled.

"No worries kiddo; I'll be there in fifteen."

"Thanks Spence. You're the best!"

"You know it!"

And that's why he was sitting in front of the school at 9:30 on Friday night instead of watching the latest episode of Celebrities Underwater. This didn't bother him too much; he was a spontaneous kind of guy. It wasn't unusual for him to drop what he was doing to say, drive to Idaho, or wherever else the iCarly gang got an itch to go. Anyway, if he sat here long enough, there was a pretty even chance that something equally as interesting would happen. Drama abounded at high school social events. His thoughts turned back more years than he wanted to admit, to the last such event he had attended at Ridgeway. Recalling several near disasters that had occurred, he at first failed to notice Sam waiting at the top of the steps. From the corner of his eye he caught the motion of her descent, and had to do a double take to confirm that it was, in fact, Sam stepping carefully towards the car.

He caught his breath for just a moment. Sam, in her Cinderella gown complete with "glass" slippers and pinned up blonde ringlets was the image of a Disney princess. In his mind's eye he could almost see the coach and four pulling up, the coachman jumping down to sweep open the door…. Oh wait a minute! **He** was supposed to be opening the door. Right. Better get on that. He shook his head, marveling how time flies. It seemed like just the other day he'd been escorting them to Sunshine Girl meetings, and here they were in their senior year, getting ready to take on the world. He pondered this for a minute as he exited the car to open the door for Sam. He glanced at her again and concluded that the world had _no idea_ what it was in for.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Back at the apartment, the pair fell into their normal routine. After shedding the formal gown in favor of an oversized T shirt and boy shorts, Sam collapsed on the couch with a bowl of popcorn, staring at Spencer's latest project. It was a huge globe – the continents appeared to have been cut out of sponges (sponges? Really?) Spencer was in the process of fastening a miniature Eiffel Tower to something that Sam supposed must be France. He was using pushpins, you know, the kind with little round colored tops that people use to mark maps with places they've visited. Sam had to laugh at the sight of Spencer holding several pins in his mouth like an overworked seamstress, juggling the Tower in one hand and the Statue of Liberty in the other.

"Hey Spence, how about I help you with that? "

Spencer bobbed his head enthusiastically, and Sam hopped from the couch to rescue him from his creation. Time passed quickly and Sam decompressed as they worked, pinning various monuments and landmarks to their appropriate countries. They had just stepped back to admire their progress when the door opened, spilling Carly and Freddie into the room. Both were laughing hysterically, hardly able to catch their breath.

"Whoa guys, chill," Sam ordered, "I don't want to have to call the paramedics to resuscitate you. What's so gosh darn funny anyway?" she asked, just the slightest bit peeved at the interruption. Granted, Carly lived there, but still! Of course Sam loved her dearly, but sometimes the girl could be too much.

"OMG Sam, you should have seen them!" Carly started, in between gasping for air. "There was the jello, and the –"

"And then, and he-"Freddie interrupted, not even able to form a complete sentence.

Sam and Spencer just stared at them, bemused.

Suddenly realizing that her audience was not demanding "deets," Carly took a breath and finished lamely, "I guess you had to be there."

"I guess," Sam agreed, shrugging. She turned back to Spencer, intending to ask him whether he wanted to do any more work on the sculpture, but he was already shaking his head. She felt a pang of disappointment.

"It's getting late kiddos; if I stay up much later I might mistake my thumb for a pin cushion. You can tell me all about it in the morning, 'k?" Without waiting for their agreement, he turned and started for the stairs.

"Goodnight Spence," Sam called after him.

"Nite Sam," he called back. "Nite Carly, see ya Freddie."

"I'm about to crash myself, "Freddie announced, heading for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow." He glanced at Carly with a grin saying, "I gotta find a way to work that jello into the show."

The door clicked shut behind him and Carly turned to Sam with a frown. "Why did you leave so early Sam? You know how important it is to be out and about. The more you're seen, the more likely you'll be nominated for prom court!" She tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for a response from Sam.

Sam just snorted. "Carls, do you think I give a hoot about being nominated for prom court? That's gotta be about one of the last things I would ever want to do. You, sure. You live for that stuff. But I'm not you, and I had just had enough of the posturing and … whatever. Can we just leave it at that? I'm really glad you had a good time, but I was just as happy to hang here and help Spencer."

Carly was still frowning, but it was evident that Sam wasn't going to see the error of her ways right this moment, so she decided to leave that battle for another day. Sighing she said, "Ok Sam, I don't understand it, but ok. I'm pretty wiped out, so I'm going to bed. You're staying, right?"

"Don't I always?"

Carly laughed. "Yeah, Spencer said the other day that he's gonna add your name to the mailbox!"

Sam grinned back at her and headed for the stairs, calling over her shoulder "I knew he'd come around eventually!"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Carly fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, for which Sam was grateful. She really didn't feel like rehashing the whole high school social scene. Lately she'd had less and less patience for the growing senioritis among their classmates. She had to work hard just to keep up appearances on their web show; she no longer felt like the Sam that their viewers were used to seeing. "Playing" herself was starting to really grate on her nerves. She lay staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, wondering what exactly had changed. "Maybe," she thought, "I'm just growing up. " Shrugging, she continued, "It's been known to happen. Who'd have thought I'd be the first one? I always figured it would be Freddie…" She drifted of f into a restless sleep.

Sam woke in the grip of rising panic, emerging from a nightmare that left her hyperventilating and her heart pounding. The bad dream was rapidly slipping away, but the uneasy feeling did not depart with it. Casting about for a way to calm herself, Sam fondly remembered how Spencer had tried to "cure" her of a recurring nightmare a couple of years ago. "Of course!" she thought. Spencer would know what to do.

She slipped quietly from the bed and tiptoed to the door of Spencer's room, hoping that he would be awake and maybe willing to make her some scrambled eggs or something. Peeking in, she was disappointed to see that he was sound asleep, his magic meatball on the nightstand beside him. She started to turn away but stopped, unwilling to return to Carly's room and the memory of the nightmare. Spencer's room was safe, and for the moment, Carly's was not. Impulsively Sam glided into the room and slipped into Spencer's bed, curled up on the very edge as far away from him as possible. She did not want to wake him; just to be calmed by listening to the steady sound of his breathing. She attempted to synchronize her own breaths with his, and after a few moments, fell into a dreamless sleep.

A short time later Spencer was awakened by the smallest sigh, where one was not expected. He was astonished to find Sam curled up in a ball on the far side of the bed, her steady breathing indicating that she was sleeping peacefully. Too tired to contemplate why she was there and reluctant to wake her, he just got up and padded downstairs to the couch, closed his eyes and promptly went back to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Rising early as was his habit, Spencer started a pot of coffee and turned to study his work in progress. He was startled to find that Sam had materialized at the counter. She was rarely an early riser; he assumed she must have come in search of bacon, or whatever meat product might be at hand.

"Ah, good morning Sam," he started. "Umm, you know, a funny thing happened last night." He looked over at her to see if she would offer an explanation for her unexpected presence in his room.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What funny thing was that?" She hopped down and strolled over to the globe, gazing at it thoughtfully while waiting for his response. "You know, we really need to add something to –"

"Australia," he finished for her, and she nodded in agreement. Moving over to the counter, she poured herself a cup of coffee and perched back on her stool, waiting quietly to see whether Spencer was going to expand upon his earlier statement.

Not quite sure how to proceed, Spencer turned to the stove and busied himself dropping some bacon in the pan. "Well, "he began hesitantly, "I woke up and-"

"I had a nightmare," she interrupted abruptly. "I was feeling … anxious, I guess and everyone was asleep and I just didn't… want to be by myself."

"Okaaay," he responded cautiously, whisking eggs furiously in a bowl. "I guess no harm done."

Sam didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until she let it out. She'd didn't want to dwell on her motivation for last night's action and was relieved that Spencer seemed willing to overlook it. She sipped her coffee, enjoying the delicious aroma of home fries and bacon. When Spencer slid a steaming plate in front of her, she virtually inhaled everything in no time flat. Feeling much better with a full belly, she flipped idly through the morning paper. Spencer was startled when Sam offered an opinion on the editorial, which discussed an upcoming Seattle election.

"Sam, I had no idea you were interested in politics."

"Well, you know this moron- er, this unenlightened candidate wants to reduce City funding to the local community colleges. If that happens, the schools will be forced to reduce financial aid to students. I'm concerned about that. You know, I've been working harder at school but there isn't enough time left for me to make up for the first three years of goofing off… I know I won't have the grades to get an academic scholarship to a four year school. That doesn't mean I'm not interested in going though, and my mom…" Sam shook her head. "You know my mom isn't going to be able to help very much. That City funding is important to people like me." Sam sipped her coffee, idly twirling a stray curl around her finger.

Spencer was flummoxed. He was certain he had never heard Sam expound upon such a serious topic before. He had never known her to give a moment's consideration to the future at all. Her version of future sight had always been limited to when the next plate of barbecue ribs might appear in front of her. That or the next Galini pie. Thoughtfully, he sat down beside her at the counter. They sat in companionable silence until Carly came dragging down the stairs, covering a yawn.

"Good morning sleepyhead!" Spencer jumped up to fix a plate for Carly but she waved him away.

"Bleh! Don't you two ever get tired of eating that stuff? I can just see your arteries clogging! I'll just have some toast. "Turning to Sam, she continued "Freddie's coming over later; he's still working on the jello thing but we were talking about a new cowboy sketch. Are you up for rehearsal or do you have something else going on?"

Normally she would not have to ask Sam if she was available, Sam was always available. The three were inseparable, and Carly had a hard time envisioning Sam involved in something that did not also involve her or Freddie. Lately though, Sam was inexplicably absent from their pow-wows, and Carly was getting just the teensiest bit worried…

A/N: I'm sorry if this seems a little slow for some of you; the story is really about the development of a relationship over time. What I'm going for is that each chapter will have an event that, looking back, moves the relationship forward. The event may not be dramatic but is significant to the characters. You'll have to let me know whether I manage to accomplish that or not!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"Umm… sure Carls, what did you have in mind?"

Carly was relieved, for a moment she'd thought that Sam was going to blow her off again. "Oh, it's going to be funny! We're calling it 'The Cowboy and the Stupid Girl Who Thought She Could Get a Tan in Front of the Fireplace in Winter!' What do you think?"

"Yeah, that sounds promising… you might want to send Spencer far, far away first though. Just as a precaution, since there's going to be actual flames involved." She glanced over at Spencer, who was staggering around the kitchen with his hand pressed to his chest.

"How could you say such a thing?'" he teased, "you've dealt me a mortal blow! I can't believe you think I'm a fire hazard! And I was going to let you help me finish Australia!"

Sam sat up straighter. "Really?"

"Not now! I see how you are!" He shook his head sadly. "Ye of little faith. I guess I'll have to call the Gibster to fill in."

She pretended to be horror-stricken, wringing her hands."Oh please give me another chance! You know that Gibby can't wield a pushpin as artistically as I can!"

"Come to think of it, I'm not sure I trust Gibby with pushpins." Whirling around to face them he continued, "who am I kidding? I've been trusting Sam Puckett with pushpins! What could I have been thinking?"

Sam huffed, but then laughed. Spencer looked right at her and smiled but made no further comment. Carly looked at them both and shook her head. "I don't know which of you is worse! " She was not sure how their conversation had taken such a detour in the first place. "I'm going up for a shower."

"Uh uh!" Sam shrieked, "I was up first and I call first dibs!" She leaped from her stool and raced up the stairs. Carly sank back down with a sigh. "At least SOME things never change," she grumbled.

Spencer nodded his head sympathetically as he turned to wash the dishes. Chuckling to himself he said, "and why would you want them to?"

A/N: I know this was short, sorry! I like to use a new chapter to change the scene or to pass time in the story. Keep an eye out gentle readers! You will see the fireplace sketch again at some point, as it will be making an appearance in a future (unrelated) Seddie story that I haven't gotten around to writing yet.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Once again for the record, I do not own iCarly. Nor do I own Peter Pan, the Lost Boys, or any other story character eventually featured in any Disney movie…

Chapter Six

The day passed uneventfully for the most part, with the exception of what _appeared_ to be a minor skirmish in the studio. Sam suggested that maybe they should let Freddie play the cowboy, seeing as he was in fact, actually a guy whereas, she, Sam, was not.

A hand on her hip, Carly stated the obvious. "You've never complained about it _before._ People like the cowboy the way he, I mean, SHE is! "

"Well, I just thought that since Moonlight Twi-Blood was so popular, it's only fair to give Freddie more face time on screen. How do you know people wouldn't like him as the cowboy?"

Carly stared at her in disbelief. "I DON'T know, but that's not the point! First of all, I can't remember you ever acknowledging that Freddie is a guy. He's never risen from the dork slash nub class in your book. Second, you have never VOLUNTEERED to give him more face time. Third, if Freddie plays the cowboy, who are you going to play? Are you saying that you want to play the stupid girl? I'm ALWAYS the stupid girl!" She paused, "that's not exactly what I meant. What I meant was… Oh, you KNOW what I meant!"

"Chill Carly," Freddie interjected. "Why are you jumping all over Sam? She wasn't complaining; she just made a suggestion. You don't have to bite her head off. Don't you think you're overreacting? There's no reason we can't make it 'The Cowboy and Two Stupid Girls who Thought They Could Get a Tan in Front of the Fireplace in Winter." Really it was nice of her to offer, even if we don't make the change. Give her some brownie points at least." He gave Sam a sympathetic look and held his hands up in front of him in a silent "slow down" gesture. "Just sayin."

"I just don't UNDERSTAND, Sam. Lately nothing we do sits right with you. "She narrowed her eyes. "Why ARE you being so nice to Freddie? You haven't punched him, slapped him, pranked him or stolen his lunch in weeks!"

Freddie choked. "Don't give her any ideas!" he muttered under his breath.

Sam lifted her chin defiantly. "So? Is there a rule that says I can't treat Freddie like a human being once in a while? In case you didn't notice, I haven't punched, slapped, pranked, or stolen anyone else's lunch in weeks either! Why exactly is that a problem?"

Carly paused, trying out various internal responses before finally coming out with, "It's just not like you Sam." She took a breath and admitted, "I'm getting worried about you."

Sam barked a short laugh. "You're WORRIED about me?" she asked incredulously. "Because I'm not harming people, there must be something _wrong_ with me?" She turned to Freddie. "Freddork – I mean Freddie, do you have any kind of problem with me being nice to you?"

Freddie shook his head emphatically. "Nope, no problems here! Since I haven't had to look over my shoulder constantly, I've slept better than I had in weeks. I actually LIKE her this way Carly," he added helpfully.

Sam folded her arms across her chest and glared at Carly. "See, no problems, except the ones you're MAKING UP."

Carly sighed, "I'm sorry Sam. You're right. I really don't even know what we're fighting about." She sank down in a beanbag. "But you're sure you're ok? You're not depressed, or fighting with your mom, or…." She cast a speculative glance at Freddie. "Maybe getting fond of a certain tech –"

"CARLS, I'm fine!" Sam shouted. "I am not depressed. I am not fighting with my mother; well, not any more than usual. I am not in love with Freddie!" She rolled her eyes. "Why do you insist on putting me under the microscope? I swear there is nothing wrong with me. Has it occurred to you that maybe something is _right _with me?"

Carly gave her an odd look. "What do you mean?"

She took a calming breath before answering. "Believe it or not guys, I'm not interested in being one of the Lost Boys. There is a future out there and nobody gets to be a kid forever."

Freddie looked on with growing comprehension while Carly just shook her head. "Sam, you're not making any sense. Of course you can't be a kid forever. I know that. But this is our SENIOR YEAR, so really this is your LAST CHANCE to be a kid. I feel like you've gone off somewhere without us."

"And there it is," Freddie whispered.

Carly, clearly vexed, snapped back. "There WHAT is?"

"Carly, stop talking in capital letters," Sam ordered.

"If you would speak in plain English, I WOULDN'T HAVE TO SPEAK IN CAPITAL LETTERS!"

"Ask the former nub, he gets it." With that, Sam stalked out of the room.

"Freddie, please tell me what just happened here," Carly demanded.

Freddie refused to meet Carly's eyes while considering his reply. "Carly, don't you remember Peter Pan?" he asked softly.

"PETER PAN?"

"Sam's right, you really should stop talking in capital letters."

"FREDDIE," Carly shrieked.

"Ok, ok!" There went the hands again. "Calm down! What Sam is trying to tell you is that… she decided to grow up."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Sam stormed down the stairs, intent on exiting the apartment post haste. Spencer looked up from the Mayan temple he was currently carving from Styrofoam to see her barreling towards the door. Frowning, he called out "Hey, hey Sam! What's the rush there kiddo?" She paused with her hand on the doorknob. She turned to look back at him, her eyes glistening but no tears falling and said quietly, "I am NOT a kiddo."

As she spoke, Freddie came hurrying down the stairs. "Sam, Sam!" he called, "please don't leave. Carly's sorry; really she is. We shouldn't be fighting like this!"

"WE, as in you and I, are not fighting," Sam shot back. "You and I are fine. " Her voice softened. "Thanks for the backup. Anyway, Carlotta is the one with the problem, not me. All I want is to be taken seriously. When she's ready to do that, and tell me HERSELF, she and I won't be fighting either. "Assuming (rightly) that Carly was hovering on the stairs, she aimed her next comment in that direction. "We're still best friends you know."

Carly stepped quietly down to stand in front of Sam. "I AM sorry Sam. You're right; people do grow up. I guess I just wasn't ready for that to happen to us. I didn't want to see it, and I'm sure that's what's been making me cranky and well, unpleasant. Forgive me?"

Sam pulled her into a hug. "Of course I forgive you," she whispered. "I hate fighting! But I really don't feel like working on iCarly any more tonight."

"That's ok," Carly assured her. "How about we…I mean, what would YOU like to do?"

Sam smiled at Carly's obvious attempt to make amends. "How about we just chill and watch some Girly Cow?"

Freddie groaned, "Girly Cow again?" He slumped onto the couch in defeat. "I guess I can suffer through it for Sam's sake."

"You're a good friend Frednub," Sam said affectionately.

"Hey, I thought I wasn't a nub anymore!"

Sam laughed. "Relax, you're not a nub. I just thought it would make Carly feel better." She grinned at Carly and Carly grinned back.

"Well I guess that makes it ok then, "Freddie replied sarcastically.

"Of course it does!" they shouted together.

Freddie looked over at Spencer for help but he just shrugged and went back to carving, wondering what he had just witnessed.

The three settled back to veg in front of the TV. There were no further tiffs, but it was evident that the earlier drama had been draining. Freddie left early, claiming to have to attend church with his mother in the morning. Feeling it would be prudent to leave the girls alone to discuss whatever issue was on the hot plate, Spencer also made excuses and took himself to bed.

Although they had officially made up, Carly felt the silence growing uncomfortable once the guys disappeared. "Hey Sam, I'm heading upstairs. Are you coming?"

"Nah, not yet. I think I'll watch another episode. "

"Oh, ok then. Well you know where I'll be," she chirped with a little too much pep.

"Yep, good night Carls."

"Good night Sam." Carly fled up the stairs, yanking her phone from her pocket as she went. She flung herself on the bed and started texting furiously.

"Freddie – R U awake?"

"Yep."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well, what do u think about Sam?"

Carly's phone rang and she picked up immediately.

"Carly, did you not hear what Sam said? You agreed that she was right. Everyone has to grow up sometime."

"I know," she hissed, "but she doesn't want to do iCarly."

"Carly, that's not what she said! She said she didn't feel like working on it any more tonight! Quite honestly, neither did I."

"But she wants to change the sketches. And she doesn't want to be mean, pranky Sam. What will that do to the show?"

Carly tried to imagine what Freddie was doing on the other end of the phone. Surely he must be as alarmed as she was at this turn of events. She was _counting_ on the web show to be a popularity booster in her ongoing quest for a prom court nomination. Was he pacing back and forth? Tearing at this hair? Drawing unhappy doodle people in his notebook?

In reality Freddie was doing none of these things. He was certainly shaking his head in dismay, but not for any reason that Carly would be happy with. "Carly! Would you listen to yourself? Better yet, listen to me. I'm your friend but I'm also Sam's friend, so I am going to tell you this for your own good. Let. This. Go. Right now!" and he hung up.

Carly rang him back six times, but he refused to answer. She fell back on her pillow, almost ready to cry in frustration. Eventually she fell asleep, counting votes in her head.

In the meantime, Sam had dozed off on the couch, a Girly Cow DVD still droning in the background. She woke up suddenly when it reached the end and clicked off, switching automatically to the TV, where a Sham-Pow commercial was blaring loudly. Muttering under her breath, Sam wondered why commercials were always played at FIVE TIMES the volume of whatever show you were watching, even though you never touched the remote? She got up and turned the TV off, then started up the stairs. She paused briefly outside Carly's door but then kept on going. For the second night in a row, Sam found herself gazing at a sleeping Spencer. He'd said there was no harm done…. Once again she slipped into the bed, curled up on the edge and just like Goldilocks, fell asleep.

A/N: A huge THANK YOU to my first reviewer, TigeronFire1986! Wow, I feel so much more pressure now that I know someone is interested! Actually, I'm something of a Seddie fan myself - I have a couple of Seddie stories percolating in the back of my brain but I have to get this SPAM out of my system first!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Spencer awoke to a feeling of déjà vu. The small sigh, the eyes springing open, the sleeping girl – strike that, the sleeping Sam. He had no idea how long she'd been there, and this worried him. Just a little. She looked cold, with her arms pressed close to her sides. She had made no effort to claim his blankets, instead drawing her knees up to her chest and tugging her t shirt down over them. As soon as his tired brain processed this image, he gave a small sigh of his own, covered her up and retreated to the couch.

Sunday morning found him in the kitchen, making the usual rounds. Refrigerator to stove, stove to counter, stop to assess how much more work needed to be done on the sculpture, back to the toaster, and on it went. As he circled, he thought about what, if anything, he should say to Sam. Almost finished the circuit with a container of orange juice in hand, he was somehow NOT surprised to find that she had appeared at the counter, as if the act of thinking her name had conjured her from thin air. She was perched quietly on a stool, watching him.

"Good morning Spencer! Can I help you with that?"

Spencer did a double take to make sure it was in fact, Sam speaking. If he'd been looking for a taste tester, he would expect to find her elbowing everyone out of the way to be first in line. However, he could not remember her ever offering to help with breakfast – just eat it.

"I'm really good at French toast. Just wait!" She scooted around the counter and was cracking eggs into a bowl before he could muster the presence of mind to answer her.

"Umm, sure Sam. Thanks. So… another bad dream last night?"

Sam did not look at him, but lifted one shoulder in a half shrug.

Spencer could almost feel the split, (just like in the cartoons that had already been old when he was a child,) as his conscience divided. The "good" Spencer, complete with halo, balanced on his right shoulder while the "bad" Spencer decked out with devilish horns and a forked tail in constant motion, looked on from his left.

"I don't know about this," Good Spencer said. "Something's afoot!"

"Don't listen to that ninny," Bad Spencer countered. "No harm, no foul. Nothing has happened. For heaven's sake, (Good Spencer frowned at this) you've gotten up and left both times you realized she was there! No one can fault you for that."

This would likely have turned into a tug of war had Carly not chosen that moment to make her appearance. She had wisely decided to shower BEFORE coming downstairs that morning, thus assuring herself a fair share of hot water, and was currently wringing the last drops from her hair. Her eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Sam calmly flipping French toast in the pan.

"Morning Carls!" Sam called brightly. "You're just in time for Mama's famous le French toast."

Carly giggled; I don't think it's actually called "le French toast, Sam, but ok. You're up early; I don't remember you even coming upstairs. Aren't you tired?"

"Nah, I fell asleep on the couch watching Girly Cow. I'm good. Hope you didn't stay up waiting for me…." Sam knew the best lies always start with the truth.

"No, no. Just, you know, making sure everything's still….ok…. So, do you have plans for today?"

Sam brightened. "I'm going to help Spencer finish the globe. I'd say about two hours should wrap it up."

"What do you think Spence? Will you be able to free your indentured servant after two hours?" Carly teased.

Spencer turned to consider the sculpture and found himself agreeing that yes, two hours would probably do it. Hmmm… he didn't remember discussing a timeframe with Sam. He looked over at her with eyebrows raised, telegraphing the silent question "how did you know?"

Sam smiled. "I'm good like that."

A/N: One reviewer has questioned how long this story is going to be. The best answer I can give you is that it's going to be as many chapters as it takes us to get where we're going! I'll update as frequently as I can; I hope you're enjoying it along the way.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Just wanted to take a moment to say THANK YOU to my latest reviewers, as well as all the readers who have subscribed so far. I'll do my best not to let you down! Now for the fine print – any resemblance to actual persons is purely coincidental, etc etc. Without further ado, let's see what our friends are up to in Seattle…

Chapter Nine

Back at school, Sam's transformation had not gone unnoticed. Students who once would scurry in the opposite direction as soon as she came into view began giving her tentative waves and smiles. She returned them cordially and was soon rewarded by cautious acceptance. Carly was beginning to think that maybe the "new" Sam wasn't so bad after all, especially when she came around the corner to find Sam in conversation with Greg McAlister, a popular athlete who was high on her list of probable prom court nominees. While tempted to eavesdrop, she hung back and waited for him to leave.

"Hey Sam!" Greg smiled at her warmly.

"Oh, hi Greg. What's up?"

"Well…. I was just wondering if maybe you'd like to go out sometime?"

"Greg, wow, I'm really flattered that you thought of me! Thanks so much for asking, but I've kind of got some stuff going on right now. I hope you understand." She was quite sure that he wasn't used to rejection, but she sounded sincere, and when she flashed him a multi-megawatt smile, somehow he didn't mind so much that he's just been turned down.

"No problem, that's cool. Maybe a raincheck sometime. See you Sam!" He gave her a friendly wave and loped off down the hall. Carly moved in immediately to begin the interrogation.

"OMG Sam! That was GREG MCALISTER!"

"Well yeah, obviously." She wore a look of resignation as she glanced at Carly, waiting for the inevitable next question.

"What were you talking about?"

"He kind of asked me out."

"Sam, that's fantastic!" Carly threw her arms around Sam and did a little happy dance right in front of the lockers. "You dating Greg will give you a HUGE boost when it's time to vote for –"

"I said no."

Carly's jaw dropped; Sam imagined she could hear the thunk when it hit the floor.

"You did WHAT?"

"I. Said. No."

Carly looked bewildered. "But Sam, why? Look at him! He's popular, friendly, talented, not to mention hunky! How could you say no?" Sam saw the pout start to form on Carly's face and steeled herself for what was surely coming next.

"Well, think how Dave and Dan would feel if I went out with Greg after turning them down," Sam pointed out.

Carly looked as though she were about to faint. "Sam, I'm not sure I heard you properly. Did you just say that you turned down THREE of the hottest guys in school?"

"Yes Carls, I'm pretty sure I said something like that."

Carly slumped against the lockers, virtually in shock. She simply could not fathom why Sam would do such a thing. Here she was finally getting along with people and she wouldn't even take the opportunity to accept an advantageous date with an eligible non-loser guy. "Sam, have I taught you nothing? Please reconsider!" she pleaded. They walked towards the exit together, Sam still shaking her head and Carly on the verge of being ill. Carly fell silent on the way back to the apartment, turning the facts over and over in her mind, trying to find some logical explanation for Sam's behavior.

Sam was relieved to find Spencer home – any excuse to get away from Carly's begging, pleading, scolding, sermonizing, or whatever tactic she was planning to use next. She looked around for the sculpture and then remembered that they had finished it Sunday with ten minutes to spare.

"Hey Spence," she called. "Where'd the globe go?"

"Oh, I delivered it to the kindergarten class today."

Sam stopped and stared – surely he hadn't said kindergarten? "Kindergarten?"

"Yes, didn't I tell you that's who I was making it for?"

"No Spencer, you surely didn't. 'Cause if you had, I would definitely have suggested that you make it out of something more durable than Styrofoam and pushpins!"

Spencer's eyes got wide as he processed what Sam had said. "I guess I haven't met a lot of five year olds. I really didn't think about it." He paused a moment. Then he shrugged and smiled at her. "Remind me to consult you first before I make any more kindergarten art."

"Sounds like a plan Spence, sounds like a plan."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

A/N: You all know the drill; the powers that be say I have to tell you this stuff. I do not own Miss Congeniality, etc. etc….

Later that week the friends were in the studio, allegedly to practice for the upcoming episode of iCarly. Freddie, however, despaired of any actual rehearsal taking place. Carly was taking every opportunity to "work on" Sam to (a) get her to change her mind about dating one of the golden boys, and/or (b) get to the bottom of why she had refused them in the first place. To say that Sam resented this was an understatement.

"Honestly Carls, I think I've told you at least twice an hour for the past ninety six hours that I am not interested in going out with the wanna be prom royalty. They're nice guys and all, but not my type."

Carly pounced on this at once. "So… if a more COMPATIBLE guy asked you out, you would say yes. Right?"

Sam shook her head. "Would you drop it already? Why do you have this compulsion to hook me up with someone? I'm not sure how many more ways I can come up with to tell you that I'm just NOT LOOKING."

"But Sam, we really have a good shot at prom court! Can't you just TRY imagining for a moment what a fabulous memory that will make? Just like Sandra, Sam – 'Be the Crown!' We could be there together! How about I just check around and see who's single right now. Surely there's someone-" Carly's voice faded at the sight of Freddie slowly backing away. That could only mean that – Sam was about to blow.

Sam's face was red and her hands were clenched tightly. Her voice was shaky but she made a concerted effort not to raise it – "Carly, since this event is obviously important to you, and I'm beginning to think that maybe it's more important to you than our friendship, I am going to give you this piece of advice. If you want me, your 'best friend,' to be with you for this momentous occasion, forever to be remembered even when we're old and gray – then we will not have this conversation again. Because if we do, I assure you that I WILL NOT GO TO THE PROM!" Sam whirled and stalked out of the studio, leaving both Carly and Freddie speechless.

Hearing her clatter down the stairs, Spencer looked up to witness an instant replay of the past weekend's events. Sam was headed for the door, but this time he moved to intercept her. He hated to see the gang at odds, and his first instinct was to try to smooth things over. "Hey….not-kiddo," he teased gently. "Tell your old bud Spencer what's been going on. " He nodded his head towards the kitchen, and Sam allowed herself to be herded to the counter. She plopped down on a stool and rested her chin on one hand while Spencer rummaged in the refrigerator. "I've got BOLOGNA!" he sang, waving it in the air in front of her.

Sam felt her tension begin to melt away as she watched Spencer, looking so hopeful with his fist full of bologna. She couldn't help but smile. She sighed and said, "It's Carly. She's on a mission."

"Go on, "Spencer encouraged.

"She's bound and determined that I date 'prom court' material in order to boost our odds of being voted on. I've told her over and over that I'm not interested, but she won't take no for an answer. I finally just told her that if she didn't stop already, that I'm not going to prom."

"Wow, that's a pretty strong statement Sam. I can see how you'd feel that Carly is meddling. I'm sure she means well, but sometimes she has a hard time seeing things from other people's perspective."

"Yeah, I know. I really tried to get her to back off but she just kept hounding me about it. "

"How about we take a little time out here. You up for helping me with my new commission?"

Sam perked up noticeably. "Absolutely! " In a serious tone she continued, "But I must ask you something serious first."

Uh oh. Something serious? His worry was premature, however.

"Does this commission involve small children in any way, shape, or form?" She had a straight face but Spencer could see the smile in her eyes.

He chuckled, and replied with a hint of mischief – "No, no. Just a lot of love."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Spencer and Sam were busy soaking strips of newspaper in some kind of gunky paste when Carly came slinking down the stairs, followed at a distance by Freddie who was trying to disassociate himself from the aftermath of her meddling. He left the apartment quietly as she hesitantly crossed the room and asked in a small voice, "Sam, could I please talk to you for a minute?"

Sam looked up and shrugged, "Sure, I guess. " She turned to Spencer, commenting "This doesn't look very flammable. Can I assume it's safe for me to leave you by yourself?" She batted her eyes and smiled sweetly.

"Scoot, I've got it covered," he replied good-naturedly.

"Ok Carly, just let me get cleaned up a little." She disappeared to scrub the glue from her hands and returned to find Carly beckoning her up the stairs. The girls settled in her room, where Sam waited somewhat impatiently for Carly to spit out whatever it was she had to say.

Carly was studying her shoes intently rather than looking at Sam.

"Carls, I know your shoes are really fascinating, but it's a school night and I have to get going soon. You know my mom doesn't like me to stay over weeknights. It makes her feel more like a successful parent to have rules. So since this is pretty much the only one she ever came up with, I try to humor her."

Carly took a breath and said in rush, "Sam I'm really sorry. I know I went too far this time and I had no right. You are who you are and I just have to get in my head that just because I think something's a good idea, doesn't mean everyone else will. I've been trying to make everything perfect the way I want it to be and I've been really selfish trying to get you to see it the same way. Prom court IS really important to me but I don't want to lose my best friend over it."

Sam studied Carly's face, deciding that she did look contrite. "Do you really mean that? That you won't keep trying to make me into someone I'm not?"

"Yes! I really do."

Sam waited a moment before responding, and Carly began to fidget uncomfortably. What if Sam didn't forgive her this time? They had always been like yin and yang, contrary but intrinsically connected. Carly acknowledged to herself that losing Sam's friendship would be like losing a piece of herself.

Sam finally nodded. "Ok Carly. I don't want to lose my best friend either. But please remember what I said. Because I meant it." She hugged Carly briefly and rose to leave. "I'm heading home. I'll catch you at school in the morning."

"Ok. Good night Sam."

"Good night Carly," she threw over her shoulder as she eased out the door. She paused to check on Spencer before leaving for home. "Good job, no fire!" she teased.

"Nope!" he replied rather proudly. "Thanks for helping."

There was a smile in her voice when she answered, "anytime!"

"So did you two work things out?"

"For the time being. Carly pretty much admitted she's been trying to mold me into her own image, and agreed not to do it anymore. We'll see. I hope she's serious this time."

"Me too, kidd- umm… I mean NOT-kiddo. Me too." He gave her a quick hug and sent her on her way.

Once Sam was safely away, Spencer cleared the counter and set about working on something altogether different. He already had the basic outline in his head, but it needed some refining. And he was going to be branching into an area of art in which he had little experience. It was probably going to take some time to get it just right, and he really wanted it to be just right. Out came the sketch pad. He was soon completely lost in the work, making small changes to the design until the image on the paper aligned with the one in his imagination. At last satisfied that he had captured it, Spencer stowed the drawings carefully away.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: As you are no doubt already aware, I do not own the rights to Bambi, or any other Walt Disney creation.

Chapter Twelve

Valentine's Day was approaching, and Spencer and Sam were finishing up his commission piece for an exhibit at a local city visitor's center, to be titled something along the lines of 'Seattle: Feel the Love.' The newspaper and gunky paste had been transformed into the body of a medium sized porcupine. They worked in tandem, one on each side, painstakingly affixing wire quills densely across the critter's paper mache body. The smiling animal held a tangle of colored strings in his mouth, which led up to a bunch of colorful, heart shaped balloons.

Carly swept into the apartment with at least half a dozen shopping bags dangling from her arm to find the artists completely engrossed in their task. Disappointed that she could not immediately show off her new purchases, she set the bags down and wandered over to check their progress. She studied the piece, and while it certainly qualified as cute, in her opinion it had a couple of noticeable flaws.

"Spencer, isn't this sculpture for the "Feel the Love" exhibit at the visitor's center?"

"Yep," he replied, not taking his eyes from the quill he was placing delicately next to the porcupine's nose.

"Umm… do you think that a _porcupine_ is really the best choice for something called FEEL the love? I mean, everyone knows you can't feel a porcupine."

"It's like an oxymoron," Sam piped up.

Spencer raised an eyebrow. "I'm actually thinking about making this the first in a series of underappreciated animals. You know, Walt Disney really improved the skunk's reputation when he named one Flower. Maybe next I'll do a BEAVECOON, or an Amazonian Bamboo Snake!"

Carly looked at him doubtfully. She was pretty sure that neither one of those animals actually existed outside Spencer's imagination. "AND, "she added "Even assuming that someone felt fondly about a porcupine, they couldn't possibly put it in the same general vicinity as balloons. For obvious reasons."

Spencer opened his mouth to reply but Sam beat him to it. "That's what makes it ART!" He sat back, very interested to hear Sam's defense of the creation.

"It's the juxtaposition – the unlikely situation of these two things together. That's what makes it art Carly, not just a wanna be piñata for a kid's birthday party." Carly was not particularly impressed with this pronouncement. Spencer, on the other hand, was. He was …intrigued by her grasp of the artistic intent and wondered how she had come by it.

Carly still looked skeptical. "Ok, whatever you say. Are you almost done, because I really want to show you these shoes that I bought to try on with my prom gown," she gushed enthusiastically.

Sam glanced over at Spencer.

"You're free to go, "he said, waving them off.

Sam placed her hands together and gave a mock bow. "Thank you oh master of the Imperial Lodge of Porcupine. I'm sure your sister appreciates your generosity!" They all laughed and the girls headed for Carly's room.

Sam eyed the number of bags, peevishly asking "OMG Carly, how many pairs of shoes do you need for one dance?"

"Oh, these aren't _all _shoes. I mean, four of them are shoes, but the others are just things I picked up 'cause they were on sale, and you know how I love a sale!"

"Yes, Carly, I am aware of how much you love a sale. Let's see those shoes. " But what she really meant was, let's get this over with!

Carly modeled each pair of shoes with her dress, and while Sam made encouraging remarks about each one, Carly was clearly unsatisfied. She sighed, "I'm definitely going to have to go buy some more shoes. None of these are quite right."

Sam rolled her eyes while Carly wasn't looking. "Well, you're at least going to return all those first, right?"

"Oh no!" Carly was horrified. "I LIKE the shoes. I just don't like them with the dress. Gotta keep looking."

"A shopper's work is never done," Sam muttered under her breath.

"What was that? " Carly called from her closet as she carefully hung her gown.

"Oh, I was just saying how I'm not finished shopping either. I haven't done any of my accessorizing." Carly failed to note, or chose to overlook, the slightly sarcastic tone of voice this statement was delivered in.

"We still have some time Sam. I just like to start early. Don't worry; I'll help you with that. I mean, if you want me to, that is."

Sam smiled at the eager look on Carly's face. That girl certainly couldn't resist a shopping excursion, especially one that involved prom.

"Thanks Carly, maybe after my birthday. I'll probably have a little money to spend then."

"Ok!" Carly was almost humming. This line of conversation suited her much better than the heavy topics she'd been forced to address with Sam lately. She could almost forget that Sam was refusing to consider a date and she, Carly, was forbidden to bring up the subject again. Feeling very generous towards Sam in that moment, she suggested, "Hey, I haven't watched Girly Cow in forever. You want to go see if the new episode is on?"

"Wouldn't miss it Carls, let's go" she agreed amiably. In fact, there was not a better activity that Carly could have suggested… The evening passed and Carly started hinting that it was time for her beauty sleep.

"No need to wait up for me Carls; I'll get there eventually," Sam said, encouraging her friend to leave. Carly did not protest; she really did think that adequate sleep improved her complexion. She murmured good night and drifted off to her room.

As she had done on several past occasions, Sam stared fixedly at the TV, while not really seeing it at all. She eventually fell into a sort of half-sleep; her eyes were closed and she was not inclined to move, but she was still aware of any sound or motion around her. Thus she was aware when Spencer made his final rounds before heading off to bed, shutting off the television and dimming the light, but she did not wake herself enough to say good night. Some time passed before the distant wail of an emergency vehicle passing on the street roused her. Rising immediately, she tiptoed quietly up the stairs to the only place that she was certain she could sleep soundly. Spencer's room.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: For the record, I do NOT think community college is lame. It is a wonderful resource for anyone wanting to continue their education or explore new interests.

Chapter Thirteen

Sam slipped into "her" spot and closed her eyes, just on the verge of drifting off. Spencer woke immediately, on some level almost expecting her to appear there. Not wanting to confront her in these circumstances, he waited until he was sure she was sleeping before rising to leave. He settled on the couch but found that he was unable to sleep – the muses having reappeared and begun an active conversation.

Forked tail twitching angrily, Bad Spencer fired off the first shot. "Don't even start your sermonizing, fuddy duddy. It's late – actually, by now it's early, and SOME of us would like to sleep."

Good Spencer frowned (Spencer noticed that Good Spencer frowned a lot) but replied serenely, "You won't be able to sleep with a guilty conscience."

"Guilty conscience!" Bad Spencer roared. "I've nothing to be guilty about! Besides, it's YOUR job to be the guilty conscience, not mine!"

"All the same, don't you think there's just a wee bit of impropriety in this arrangement?"

"There is no impropriety! There is no arrangement! It just happens!" Bad Spencer smirked. "I just haven't stopped it from happening." He shrugged, as though it really didn't matter. "I told you before and I'll tell you again. I've done nothing wrong. "

Good Spencer tsked and tried again. "It _could_ be harmless. But then again, maybe it isn't."

Spencer winced, getting ready to clap his hands over his ears. "Enough already, "he groaned, although (of course) there was no one actually there to hear him. Acknowledging the fact that he was not going to be sleeping any more that night, Spencer decided that what he needed was a distraction. He got up and began gathering the tools he would need to start bringing his mystery project to life.

He worked quietly into the early morning hours and was just putting his materials away when Sam came down the stairs. "Morning Spence." She watched him curiously. "Were you working on something?" The porcupine appeared untouched, but the evidence of the artist at work still littered the counter.

"Yes," he replied cautiously. "But it's not ready yet."

Sam looked a little hurt. She was becoming accustomed to being the extra set of hands on his projects, and while not considering herself an actual partner, thought she qualified as at least an apprentice. Why would he not want her to see what he was working on? "So you don't need any help?" she asked, her disappointment evident.

Spencer considered his answer. He didn't want to hurt her feelings, but at the same time, had no intention of revealing this piece until it was ready to be presented to its new owner. "It's not that I don't _want_ your help Sam; it's just that…" he paused before continuing carefully, "the person who commissioned this piece is adamant that it not be revealed to anyone in advance. " A light bulb went off in his head and he went on, "In fact, since this project is a stretch for me, it's going to take more time than usual. I'm really going to need your help to keep up on my other commissions. Are you up for it? "

Sam was mollified, "You bet! I have to go somewhere today for a couple of hours, but I'll be back this afternoon to help you with the porcupine."

"So what's on the agenda, or should I not ask?"

"Actually… I was thinking about asking you if you would go with me. There's an open house at the community college today. I was going to take Carly and Freddie, but…" Hmmm… what excuse could she give for not asking them? "I'm afraid they'll think it's lame. "

"Sam, I'm sure they won't think community college is lame. They're you're friends, and they're going to be happy that you've found something that fits you. "

Privately Sam agreed; Carly and Freddie probably would be glad to go with her, and certainly wouldn't think it was lame. She wasn't prepared to admit that she just didn't want them to go. Sometimes she didn't want to be part of the iCarly trio; sometimes she wanted to be just Sam.

She deflated. "Does that mean you won't go?"

"Not at all; I'd be honored to go with you. What programs are you interested in?"

"Well, Theater," she began. Spencer nodded; that didn't seem like too much of a stretch. Sam ducked her head and continued shyly, "and Art History."

"Really!" She'd managed to surprise him again. It felt like she'd been doing that a lot lately. "Well, I guess I'd better get you some breakfast so that we can be on our way."

She helped him clear the counter and without asking, moved to the refrigerator to extract the egg carton. They worked side by side preparing breakfast, and then sat at the counter chatting about whatever came to mind.

As they cleaned up, Spencer realized that he had once again failed to mention Sam's nocturnal visits to his room.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Weeks passed; spring came to Seattle, and Spencer found that a new dynamic had emerged in his household. Over time Sam had been asserting more independence, and Carly, unwilling to incur her wrath, had not challenged this. Sam now spent most of her free time working with Spencer on his projects, with the notable exception of the mystery piece. While she still returned home on school nights, Sam routinely spent whole weekends at the Shay's apartment. That, in itself, was not unusual. The problem with this (from Good Spencer's perspective,) was that her habit of appearing in his room at night had persisted. Spencer was now intimately familiar with every lump on the couch, since each Friday and Saturday night without fail, he found himself there. He had adjusted his own routine to accommodate this, usually forgoing sleep to work on his special piece. The early morning would find him brewing coffee and perusing the newspaper until Sam materialized. If he were honest, he would have to admit that he looked forward to their conversations, which could be silly or serious – once they had even discussed their absent fathers. By unspoken agreement, there was only one topic that was never mentioned (much to the satisfaction of Bad Spencer, who felt vindicated, and was in total agreement that they should let sleeping Sams lie.)

Spencer wasn't sure where the time had gone, but woke that morning with a sense of great anticipation. It was April 17th, the day that his mystery piece would be revealed. Not coincidentally, it was also Sam's eighteenth birthday.

After school the gang descended upon the Groovy Smoothie to celebrate Sam's birthday. T-Bo tried to offer her a cupcake on a stick, but since cupcakes rarely survive intact after being impaled, she politely declined.

"Hey Carls, I got some money for my birthday. I was thinking maybe we could go shopping on Saturday. I really do need to get some earrings or something to go with my prom dress."

Carly was ecstatic. "Yes! Oh, it's going to be so much fun! I still need to find shoes, you know."

Freddie and Sam both shook their heads. Carly had already purchased at least a dozen pairs, and still hadn't settled on one. The two had joked that Carly would just have to go barefoot.

"Yeah, I guess I am sort of looking forward to it," Sam admitted.

Carly still had hopes that Sam would come around. As the event approached, the senior class was focusing more and more on the light at the end of tunnel. Soon they would be let loose upon the world, and prom was their chance to get together for one last hurrah before adulthood officially claimed them. The excitement was contagious; surely Sam couldn't be immune. Carly decided to push her luck.

"You know, "she started delicately, "the teachers are submitting prom court nominations next week. I know you're not interested," she added hastily as Sam started to frown, "but what are you going to do if you DO get nominated?"

"I'm really not expecting to be nominated Carly. I guess I'll think about it if it happens."

It was a start; at least she hadn't outright refused. Carly was encouraged by this but decided baby steps were in order. There was still time; she could wait.

The trio waved goodbye to their friends, heading back to the apartment. Spencer had promised fried chicken for dinner, and despite Sam's new affability, Freddie and Carly were not keen to get between her and a piece of crispy poultry!

Coming through the door, Sam inhaled deeply saying, "It smells heavenly in here!"

Spencer leaped up from the couch. He'd been idly plucking a tune on his banjo, trying to occupy both his hands and his mind until Sam and company arrived. "Happy Birthday!" he exclaimed, impulsively dancing a little jig, accompanied by the birthday song on the banjo.

"Thanks Spencer!" Sam smiled brightly. "Dinner smells delicious. Is it time to eat?"

Carly shook her head. "Sam, I swear you're a bottomless pit! You just finished a triple extra large black raspberry smoothie. How can you possibly be ready for dinner?"

Sam arched an eyebrow – "I am ALWAYS ready for fried chicken!"

Spencer smiled at the exchange, which reminded him of the way things used to be. He'd noticed those moments didn't come around as often anymore.

"Dinner's almost ready. There's just one thing I have to do first."

"What's that?"

"Give you your birthday present."

"OOH! I wonder what it is!" Carly squealed. "Spencer always comes up with the best gifts! Well, except for that lamp that caught on fire, and -"

Spencer gave her a look, and she quickly closed her mouth.

He disappeared for a moment, returning with a square box wrapped in gold foil. An elaborate bow held a delicate spring blossom tightly in place. He handed the package to Sam, almost shyly. It had taken him weeks to finish and he was quite proud of it. Holding his breath, waiting for her to open it, Spencer realized how much he really wanted this to be "the" gift this year. The one that was admired and talked about and loved.

Sam carefully extracted the flower from the mass of curling ribbons, placing it down beside her. More patiently than her friends had ever seen her, she ran a finger under the tape on one end and lifted the flap. Rather than ripping the paper away, she gently teased the box out.

"Would you open it already?" Carly demanded, impatient to see what was inside.

Before lifting the lid, Sam glanced over to see Spencer watching her intently, the look of anticipation unmistakable on his face.

A small smile curled on her lips. "Maybe I should wait to open this until _afte_r dinner," she teased.

A resounding "NO!" came from the peanut gallery.

Taking a breath, she slowly opened the box.

A/N: Sorry folks, you'll have to read the next chapter to find out what was in the box! You've probably figured out that this is the mystery project that Spencer's been working on for so long.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

There was a collective intake of breath as Sam lifted the bracelet from the box. The links were forged from burnished copper, and it was strung with polished turquoise stones interspersed with dangling discs that had been inscribed with the signs of the zodiac. One of the charms was larger than the others, bearing a stylized letter "S" on one side. Reverently, Sam flipped it over to find an image of the sun etched in copper. The sun had a face; it definitely was smiling, and looking more closely, she was almost certain it was winking at her!

They all began speaking at once.

"I've never seen anything like it!" Carly declared enviously.

"Spencer, did you really make it yourself?" Freddie asked in admiration.

But it was Sam's reaction that he was waiting for.

She looked as though she might cry. "Spencer, it's absolutely the most beautiful bracelet I've ever seen. I love it!" She jumped up and threw her arms around him. Looking up to see his obvious delight, she spoke softly, "this is what you were working on all that time that you wouldn't let me see."

He did not trust himself to speak, just nodded and smiled. She knew he had to have invested countless hours in the piece, and she suddenly felt very special. She stared at him for a moment too long, until Carly suddenly shrieked, "the chicken's on fire!"

There followed a mad rush to the kitchen, where the blaze was quickly extinguished. Over the years the gang had become adept at fighting fires.

"Sam, I' m really sorry about the chicken," Spencer apologized. "If you want, I can order pizza or something."

"It's ok Spence," she replied as she lifted a scorched leg from the pan. "Actually, I think it's still edible!"

"Oh, no Sam," Carly protested. "We're not eating charred chicken for your birthday dinner! I'm ordering Chinese." She sent Freddie looking for the menu while she hauled out her phone.

Spencer just stood watching Sam with the silliest grin on his face. Looking over and catching him at it, Sam impulsively crossed the room and kissed him. "Thanks Spencer," she whispered. "This is the best birthday I've ever had." She sauntered back to her smoking chicken and began picking pieces off the bone. He stood frozen in place; only after Carly asked him for his menu choice for the third time did he shake off the paralysis. And life resumed.

The following day found Spencer in a state of restless agitation. His special project was finished. For the last two months this had occupied most of his time and attention and he was feeling at loose ends. He was also trying to ignore the volley of insults being hurled back and forth between the Good and Bad Spencers, who each had an opinion on why Sam had kissed him. He was inclined to agree with Bad Spencer, who maintained that it was only a thank you, harmless, between friends. But it was possible that he was wrong. His mouth tightened into a grim line. There was only one thing to be done.

When the gang returned from school, the apartment was unusually quiet. Sam was anxious to tell Spencer how much everyone at school had admired her bracelet, but he was not at his usual place at the counter. Carly and Freddie headed up to the studio, with Sam assuring them she would follow as soon as she found Spencer. She moved purposefully towards his room but froze on the threshold in shock. There was someone IN. HER. SPOT. 


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: A word of thanks to my new reviewers – I really appreciate you taking the time to drop me a line. This chapter is shorter than I would like but I feel bad for making you wait so long as it is. I decided short was better than nothing. Cross your fingers for more soon!

Chapter Sixteen

Spencer had dated many women over the years, but Sam didn't recognize this particular someone as anyone she had seen before. For the moment the woman's attention was focused across the room, where Spencer remained out of Sam's line of sight. For once she was grateful for her delinquent past, countless episodes of saving her hide were virtually ingrained in her DNA, urging her to MOVE MOVE MOVE even while her brain was shutting down. Sam backed carefully away from the door as the unknown someone said "I'm going to head out; I have to get ready for work and I'm sure your sister will be home soon. " Sam was already halfway down the stairs, overhearing only a fragment of Spencer's response having something to do with the Groovy Smoothie.

Sam filed this away to be examined later; evidently Spencer believed them to be at their favorite hangout. Most days the gang did stop there after school to decompress, but today Sam had been set on seeing Spencer and insisted that they go straight home. She fled the apartment on autopilot, in search of someplace she could regroup undisturbed. As an afterthought, she fired a quick text off to Freddie:

"Feeling sick. Heading home. C U. Sam"

With no intention of actually going home and no conscious destination in mind, Sam left the building and just started walking. After several blocks she found herself outside a small Presbyterian church; the door was open, beckoning worshipers to enter. Sam did not consider herself "religious" per se, but her developing artist's eye enabled her to view the world in a different way, and she acknowledged some affinity for the concept of God as Architect. Slipping inside, Sam sank onto a wooden pew at the rear of the sanctuary. Sitting quietly, she gazed at the beautiful stained glass that was set in the church's upper windows. Idly she wondered if she could ever learn to make such things. Maybe Spencer –

Oh, no. Sam bit her lip and angrily dashed a tear from her eye. Why did she feel this way? It should hardly be earth-shattering news that Spencer had a girlfriend. It really was none of her business. It's not as though he OWED her anything, or had made her any promises, or…

Sam let the tears fall. She could not pretend that it didn't matter to her. Because it did. It mattered very much. The picture had zoomed into focus, and she could now see it as clearly as her reflection in the mirror. "I'm in love with Spencer…" she whispered to whatever celestial beings might be listening. "Now what am I going to do about it?"

She sat, absorbing the silence of the empty church, considering what she knew and what she could infer. First, Spencer's girlfriends had never been secret. This meant either that this relationship was brand new, without the opportunity to be announced to the group, OR, that the relationship was established but Spencer had some reason for not revealing it. The woman had specifically mentioned leaving prior to Carly's arrival. Sam frowned. This argued more for the established but "undercover" option. What reason could Spencer have for keeping a secret lady friend? Could she be married? Surely Spencer hadn't gotten involved with a married woman…

Thursday afternoon found the iCarly gang minus one member when Sam begged off rehearsal with a vague excuse about making a pharmacy run for her mother. No one was overly concerned. But when Friday arrived and Sam did not, Spencer felt the first premonition that something was wrong.

Saturday morning arrived and he sat alone at the counter, out of sorts but refusing to dwell on the cause of his funk.

He was slumped on the couch, hypnotized by a rerun of Celebrities Underwater when Sam breezed through the door at noon. ..


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Sam conceded after the fact that therapy might have its uses. Most of the time she just let the guy drone on and on, interjecting an occasional random comment to make him feel that he wasn't completely wasting his time. That was before the epiphany. In the midst of her blah blah this and blah blah that, she'd slipped in one question to which she really wanted an answer. "If you're not happy with the way things are, what do you do about it?" She'd been mulling over the advice he'd given her: accept what you can, change what you can't accept, and walk away from what you can't change.

"Can I accept that Spencer is involved with someone else?" Well that was a no brainer. Not happening. "Moving on to option two… how can I change the situation? This was not something she really wanted to explore with the therapist. Talking to Carly about it was also out of the question. Her mother was not even high enough on the list to warrant being crossed off. Who did that leave? Ironically, had Spencer not been the source of her angst, she probably would have discussed it with him. She briefly considered calling her sister, but in the end decided it was better to succeed (or fail) on her own merits. Then she would have no one to blame if the hand did not play out as she intended.

By the time she arrived at the apartment on Saturday, Sam was under control. It seemed, however, that Spencer was not. She entered the room to find him collapsed in front of the TV, clearly running on empty. "Hey Spence, Carly and I are shopping today; I'm just going to run up and get her and we'll be out of your hair." She looked back and frowned. "Are you OK? You don't look well."

"Oh fine, fine," he replied. "Just didn't sleep so well. Kinda tired, I think I'll go take a nap." He avoided looking at her as he dragged up the stairs. Dropping onto the bed with a sigh, he stared at the ceiling and tried to ignore the Spencers, who were both clamoring for his attention. He reflected on the fact that he was not a good liar. Technically, he hadn't lied to anyone. Funny, he felt like he was lying to everyone. He felt guilty. Guilty about Sam, even though he'd done nothing. (Maybe _because_ he'd done nothing.) Guilty about calling Meredith to try to stop feeling guilty about Sam. While he was piling it on, he might as well feel guilty about deceiving his father about law school. And not telling Marissa Benson that Freddie had switched out all her tick bath starter with Axe body wash. He could probably go on like this all day.

"I TOLD you that girl was going to be a problem," Good Spencer hissed in his ear. "Look at yourself! You're a wreck. And why? Because she didn't show up to kick you out of your own bed? In what way does that make sense?"

"That's not why he's a wreck!" Bad Spencer countered immediately. "He's a wreck because YOU thought it would be a good idea to call Meredith. Does he _look_ like that solved all his problems? NO! Because it just made them worse."

"Well if he could act his age instead of –"

"ACT HIS AGE?" Bad Spencer was outraged. "Spencer is young at heart! Don't you forget it! He is an _ARTIST_! A _SENSITIVE SOUL_! He –"

Spencer stuck his fingers in his ears and began humming. Hmmmmm….. The muses disappeared, one with a disdainful sniff and the other with an angry twitch of his tail, clearly in a snit.

Meanwhile, Sam and Carly had headed for the mall. Carly was in her element, chattering about hair accessories, jewelry, and of course….wait for it… shoes. Sam repressed a sigh and tried to sound enthusiastic. She really had no desire to watch Carly try on another two dozen pairs of shoes. Sam had her own agenda. ..

Reaching Glitter Gloss, Carly grabbed Sam's hand and tried to drag her inside. "Sam, come on! We NEED to get more lip gloss, you know, in case we don't have the right shade at home already."

Sam resisted; she really needed to get away from Carly for a few minutes. "Ok Carls, but how about you go look for your shoes first. I got a runner in my thigh highs so I need to zip into Build A Bra to pick up a pair. There's no sense in you going all the way across the mall for that when the shoe store is right here. We can meet up at Glitter Gloss after, ok?"

Carly considered this. "Ok. That'll work. If I'm not here when you come back, I'm still at the shoe store."

Sam patted herself on the back. Not only had she freed herself from Carly, she'd managed to avoid having to participate in the runway of shoes!

Carly disappeared into the shoe store while Sam headed for lingerie. She did, in fact, need a new pair of thigh highs. But she also had some other things on her list.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Sam chose the colors carefully. Not red; red was too bold. Not white; white was too innocent. Her first selection was a deep plum, the second a cool aquamarine that complemented her eyes. Not so risqué as to scream "hoochie," but not so modest as to whisper "daddy's little girl." She settled on the halter babydoll, and was well satisfied when she tucked her purchases into the shopping bag. It always helped to stack the deck in your favor.

Returning to Glitter Gloss, Sam was delighted to find Carly just arriving with shoes in tow. "I FINALLY found them Sam!"

"All hail the patron saint of shoppers!" Sam allowed herself to be led into the store and patiently waited for Carly to examine each shade of gloss until she emerged triumphant, a tube of Pinky Peach Ice in hand. Sam choked, trying not to laugh. Who on earth came up with a name like that? But Carly was happy, so Sam was happy. Arm in arm, they set off in search of the perfect prom jewelry.

Back at the apartment, Spencer had given up on his quest for sleep. Each time he closed his eyes, he was haunted by a vision of Sam. Sam descending the stairs at the winter formal. Sam following him with pushpins. Sam curled up asleep in his bed. Sam reading the paper. Sam at the counter, sipping coffee. Sam making French toast. Sam covered in glue, happily slapping newspaper on a soon to be porcupine. Sam explaining art to Carly. Sam watching TV. Sam opening her birthday present. Sam eating chicken. Sam kissing him. Even the most mundane things reminded him of her, looping over and over in an endless double take. He had no idea what to do; he had to get her out of his head. As a last resort, he decided to put her on canvas.

As soon as he touched brush to paper, it took off on its own accord. Spencer was completely absorbed in the task when the subject of his piece returned. The portrait showed Sam in flux, a young woman standing in a garden in front of a tranquil pond. The careful viewer could see that the shadow cast behind her portrayed Sam as a young girl, while her reflection in the water imagined the confident woman she would become. The girls came up behind him to study the picture.

"It's an excellent likeness," Carly commented. Sam nodded her agreement, but did not speak. She was too busy thinking about what it might mean that Spencer had chosen to create this particular picture. Carly turned and headed for the stairs. "I have to call Jake to remind him what color corsage to order," she called over her shoulder. Sam shook her head – poor Jake! She suspected Carly wouldn't let the boy go until she'd mapped out the entire four weeks until prom down to the smallest detail.

Sam placed her hand gently on Spencer's shoulder, leaning in to observe the painting more closely. From his perspective, this was entirely too close for comfort. The moment she touched him, the circuit was closed. The current was palpable; Spencer was certain he would start seeing sparks any moment. If he picked up a light bulb it would probably explode from the overload.

"Sam, please don't do that." He said quietly. Good Spencer nodded in approval.

Instead of moving away, she stepped in front of him, waiting for him to meet her gaze before speaking. "I'm going out for a walk. Would you like to come? There's something I want to show you."

Spencer considered this. On the one hand, there was no way he could work with Sam standing over him, and the fresh air would do him good. On the other hand, spending more time alone with Sam was probably not the best idea given his current state of mind. Good Spencer was vigorously shaking his head, while Bad Spencer actually hauled off and kicked him. Spencer slapped his hand to his neck in surprise, startling Sam, who was still waiting for his answer.

"Sure, ok," he agreed finally. Sam allowed herself the smallest smile as they headed for the door. Once outside, he let her lead the way, careful to leave some distance between them. Their pace was leisurely; she could see Spencer was wound tight and that would not do. As they walked, Sam told him more about her plans to attend community college, where she had already registered for a summer class in Art History. Spencer was attentive and his affect visibly improved as they strolled. Deciding that he was no longer in imminent danger of imploding, she steered them towards the destination she'd had in mind all along.

Spencer was puzzled; they had stopped in front of a small church. "C'mere, I want to show you something inside." She disappeared into the sanctuary. Shrugging, he followed and found her already seated with her attention fixed on something above his head. Looking up, he immediately understood what she wanted him to see. He sank onto the pew beside her, gazing fixedly at the stained glass windows. They were more florally themed than he expected to find in a church, with lots of pink, light purple and green. The sunlight coming through them was diffused, but caused the original woodwork paneling to glow softly. From where they were seated, the church's organ appeared to be built into the wall, its tall pipes extending from mid-wall almost to the ceiling. The atmosphere was calming, serene, and Spencer found himself breathing easily. They sat in silence for some time; Spencer finally heaving a sigh and rising to his feet. He almost reached to take her hand but stopped himself just in time. Bad idea. Filing out of the church, Spencer stopped to examine the plaque outside the door. Ducking under his arm to see what he was looking at, Sam's eyes widened. They had just visited the Church of the Epiphany.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Spencer took himself to bed early that night, physically tired and mentally exhausted. The quiet interlude in the church had soothed him, but had not resolved the underlying issue. What to do about Sam. He wasn't sure how this had even _become_ an issue. Clearly it was his fault, but he was unable to pinpoint the moment that the universe had shifted around him. As always, the Spencers were attracted by his soul-searching and were soon peppering him with advice.

"This is your baby sister's best friend. You've known her since she was _eight years old_! This is WRONG WRONG WRONG!" Good Spencer pounded his fist for emphasis.

"She's not eight years old anymore!" Bad Spencer countered. "And she's _his_ friend too. You do realize she could go out and join the armed forces! She could get married tomorrow! No one could stop her."

"Technicality!" Good Spencer screamed. "It's taking advantage!"

Bad Spencer was apoplectic. "The only way you can take advantage of someone is when that someone DOESN'T KNOW WHAT SHE'S DOING! Maybe YOU think she doesn't, but that's only because you like to bury your head in the sand!"

"SO! You _finally_ admit that she has an agenda! Oh, it's harmless. Oh, she's just being friendly. Oh, nothing's happened. You're singing a different tune now, aren't you?"

Could Sam have an agenda? He honestly didn't know. She'd never actually crossed the line, and he was not about to blame her for the fact that he was completely… consumed. He could no longer deny it, although the powers-that-be knew he had tried. He loved her. Spencer covered his head with the pillow, mercifully shutting them out and allowing him to finally crash into a dreamless sleep.

The clock had just struck one when Sam materialized, claiming her spot on the edge of the bed. She still did not wake him, did not move to touch him or in any way deviate from her regular routine. When Spencer finally pulled himself from the depths to find her there, his first reaction was relief. Sam was back; everything was ok. This was the way things worked. He would cover her up; crash on the couch, wake in the morning to make breakfast, and then they would sit at the counter and talk until Carly finally appeared and they got on with the day. If he could just find his way back to that place…

He rose from the bed and walked around to her side to cover her up, just as he always did. He froze mid-step. Here came the inevitable double take – no, this one warranted at least a triple. Gone was the sleeping Sam of recent memory, she of the giant T shirt and boy shorts curled up in a ball on his bed. In her place was someone who _looked_ like Sam, but at the same time, did not. This Sam slept peacefully in deep purple lace. The significance of this was not lost on him; Sam had once again declared herself to be a _not-kiddo._

He retreated from the room, if possible, even more conflicted than when he had first gone to bed. He sank onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. "This is an impossible situation you know," he called out to whomever might be listening. Even the Spencers failed to answer.

In the morning Spencer set about his normal routine, determined to impose some order on the chaos of his life. Predictably, Sam appeared and perched on her stool, thankfully mostly covered by a bathrobe. One sleeve was slipping, and Spencer found his eye constantly drawn to the bare shoulder exposed by the recalcitrant cover up. He had to say something; there was no avoiding it any longer. He was surprised when she spoke first, and floored by what she said:

"She's married isn't she," Sam started.

"Who's married?" Spencer asked, bewildered.

Sam needed to know this. She needed to know where she stood, and whether there was any chance of swaying him. She thought there was; she thought the painting proved it, and the way he acted when she touched him yesterday. But she wasn't sure, and there was only one way to know for sure. You had to ask. "Your girlfriend. I couldn't think of any other reason that you wouldn't tell us about her, so she must be married."

Spencer looked up, totally expecting to see the giant anvil about to drop on his head. She could only mean Meredith, but how could she possibly know to ask? How was he going to explain this? He didn't _want_ to explain this, shouldn't_ have _to explain this; it was not at all an appropriate topic of conversation.

"Well, is she?"

"No," he answered shortly. Sam looked surprised.

"No? Then why…" her voice trailed off.

Spencer shook his head. He looked… she wasn't sure. Pained? Embarrassed? Maybe guilty. He sat down cautiously next to her, trying to decide how to answer.

"Meredith is not my girlfriend." This came out firmly. Spencer was not a good liar, so Sam was certain this was the truth. "She and I have… an arrangement."

"An arrangement?" What the heck did that mean?

He let his breath out slowly. "Yes… an _arrangement_. We hook up sometimes, as long as neither of us is dating someone else at the time. It's a no strings attached relationship, you understand? " He _really_ did not want to be having this conversation with her. Did not want to admit that he had called Meredith desperately trying to prevent himself from thinking about Sam. He wasn't sure what reaction he expected from her, but not in a million years would he have guessed the one he got.

Sam broke out the multi-megawatt smile. She patted his hand. She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. She hopped down from her stool, ruffled his hair and yes, that was definitely a _sashay_, across the room to the stairs. "I'm headed for the shower. I'll be back; don't start breakfast without me," she called.

Spencer was completely lost. What on earth just happened?


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: This fanfic is in no way intended to endorse Charlie Sheen. "Epic Winning" was coined by someone other than me : ) Once again, any resemblance to actual persons is purely coincidental. Loyal readers, thank you for sticking with me. I think we're nearly there!

Chapter Twenty

The school was buzzing at lunchtime on Monday; the long awaited prom court nominations had been made. The official ballot would appear on a detachable card at the bottom of the prom ticket itself, and no one would know who was on it until the first ticket was sold. Right about now. The whisper started at the front of the line, quickly sweeping through the crowd of students waiting to purchase tickets. Carly held her breath; she thought she'd heard her name, but didn't dare believe it until she saw it for herself. She waited anxiously for her turn, scanning the crowd for Sam.

Sam hummed as she approached the cafeteria, happier than she'd been in days. Now that she knew Spencer had no emotional entanglement with the mystery woman Meredith, a huge weight had been lifted. She didn't blame Spencer; after all, it wasn't _his_ fault that men were enslaved by prehistoric human biology. She felt the odds shifting in her favor.

Entering the room, she wove her way through chattering groups of students, wondering why everyone was so worked up today. Catching sight of Carly, she moved in that direction but was stopped by a hand on her arm. "Hey Sam, congratulations on the prom court nomination!" Gibby grinned at her, waving a prom ticket in her face. She snatched it from his hand, sure there must be some mistake. There, looking extremely official, was the list. "Vote for three of the following candidates for prom court: Heather Malone, Stacy Dahlinger, Carly Shay, Caroline Caldwell, Courtney Caldwell, Samantha Puckett." As unlikely as it seemed, there was her name embossed on premium card stock. You couldn't argue with embossing. Bemused, she handed the ticket back to Gibby.

"Um, thanks?"

He waved and headed towards the lunch line just as Carly screeched to a halt beside her. "We did it, Sam we made the ballot!" she squealed, barely restraining herself from bouncing up and down like a hyperactive preschooler.

Oh joy. Suddenly Sam thought Jake had the better end of the deal. At least he could hang up the phone. She was going to have to go through almost four more weeks of this, and it was surely going to get worse. Now that they were actually on the ballot, Carly would insist on the schmoozing and networking needed to garner enough support to be voted on the court. She sighed. This was SO not what she wanted to do.

Carly registered Sam's notable lack of enthusiasm. "Sam, aren't you excited? There were only six girls nominated out of the whole senior class, and two of them are standing right here! It's EPIC WINNING!"

"I'm sure you're right Carls," she said apologetically. No sense getting her riled up already. "I just never really thought I'd be nominated. It was kind of a shock."

Carly was placated. "It's going to be AWESOME," she exclaimed happily, and dashed off to find Jake. Poor Jake.

The rest of the week passed in a blur. Sam stayed away from the Shay apartment, partly to avoid Carly's prom fever and partly to see if absence did in fact make the heart grow fonder. Maybe that hadn't been such a good idea. By the time Friday evening arrived, Spencer was on a junkyard run and Sam was in a state.

"Sam, what is WRONG with you? You're bouncing around here like a –a rabid beavecoon!" Carly complained.

Sam grumbled "I don't know; I feel like I have ants crawling under my skin. We need to GO somewhere. We need to DO something."

"I've got this," Freddie said with confidence. Carly raised an eyebrow.

"Good luck with that," she replied.

"Sam!" he said sharply. "Where's your hairbrush?" Carly was surprised when Sam dug in her purse without comment, extracting her brush and plopping down on the couch in front of Freddie. "Lose the barrette Puckett!" he ordered. Sam complied, pulling the clip from her hair and shaking it out around her head in a mass of curls. Freddie began running the brush through them, methodically moving from one section to the next, brushing steadily. Carly looked on in astonishment as Sam relaxed back into the cushions, closed her eyes and became completely still. Spencer walked in with an arm full of junk just as Freddie was explaining "this hairbrush is as good as a tranquilizer gun."

"How did you know?" Carly demanded.

"I haf my vays, heh heh heh," Freddie replied with a smirk. "No, seriously, she told me one time that brushing her hair calms her down. It seemed like a good tidbit to remember; back then I never knew when I might need to tranquilize Sam."

Carly was impressed. "Good work Freddie!" They left her on the couch and ascended to the studio to discuss a prom-themed episode of the web show.

Spencer slipped upstairs as well; there had been no further opportunity to discuss their "situation" on Sunday. By the time Sam returned for breakfast that morning, Carly had emerged and the moment was lost. Although he'd had the whole week to think about it (and he'd thought about almost nothing else,) he still did not know exactly what he would say. He was grateful for the chance to postpone the inevitable for one more day.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty One

None of the Spencers were surprised when Sam appeared. As far as he knew, she only came in when he was sleeping. He closed his eyes and played the part but honestly he felt like he had _ants _crawling under his skin. Who could sleep with ants? He heard her slip into the room, but she did not move directly to her side of the bed. Instead, she crossed to his side and laid the lightest kiss on his forehead. Was he expected to wake up? If he "woke" up, the whole dynamic would change. Nobody had given him the script, and without knowing what came next, it seemed best to maintain the status quo. He stirred a little bit and turned over, but didn't open his eyes.

Sam froze. She wasn't sure if she wanted him to wake up or not. On some level, she did. To be successful it was critical that Spencer be able to separate her from Carly. She had to continue to challenge him to really see her as individual, in circumstances that he did not associate with her younger self. This certainly qualified. But if he was not willing to be led, well, it would be crushing to be rejected here, in this place that was as close as she could get to feeling connected to Spencer. She tiptoed back to her side and settled into her spot, wondering why love was so complicated.

As he usually did, Spencer waited until he was sure she was asleep before rising. A quick glance confirmed that T shirt Sam was definitely gone. Hmm…she was blue today. He left the room quickly, afraid that if he lingered he would still be staring at her when she woke in the morning. There was no use trying to sleep; he decided to work on the portrait. He'd had some success channeling his feelings into the work, and thought it might be the one thing keeping him anchored in this sea of confusion. She found him there in the morning, carefully dabbing color on a group of flowers that looked suspiciously like those in the stained glass at the Church of the Epiphany.

Without a word, she moved to the kitchen to start breakfast. He continued working until she returned with coffee, a silent offering that he accepted with a small smile. This was not their routine, and Spencer could feel his anxiety rising.

For her part, Sam was also frustrated. She thanked heaven that Carly liked her beauty sleep, because if she were here, she would surely feel the tension in the air. It lay around them like an approaching thunderhead – the clouds angry and lightning spitting in the distance. Sam felt like the vibrating string of a violin just plucked, waiting for the touch of the musician to still her. And the fact that he would _not_ touch her was simply maddening.

Spencer was acutely aware of her hovering beside him, watching every stroke of the brush. He thought these moments only occurred in books or movies – the ones where the attraction was so strong that the very air was charged around them. The last time she'd simply laid a hand on his shoulder, and that had been the catalyst. This time, she hadn't touched him at all. It was getting worse.

The room was so quiet, Sam could hear her own heartbeat. She couldn't take it anymore; she was going to go crazy waiting for something to happen. She carefully set down her cup. Very deliberately, she slipped her arms around his waist and rested her chin on his shoulder. Ok, she thought to herself. Here I am. What are you going to do about it?

Sam had decided to change the rules; Spencer felt the situation slipping out of control. The Spencers were frantic – one demanding that he tell Sam how he felt, the other demanding that he put a stop to this once and for all. It was impossible for him to think; there was nothing in his mind but Sam. The seconds ticked by, and still he said nothing.

Finally, there was a small sigh. "Breakfast is getting cold," she whispered in his ear. And then she was gone. When he finally composed himself enough to turn around, she was nowhere to be found. Not in the kitchen, the shower, Carly's room, or the studio. Sam had left the apartment and Spencer was spiraling out of control.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty Two

In the three weeks leading up to their senior prom, Sam flat out refused to return to the apartment. If she hadn't _needed_ her hair for the prom updo, Carly would have torn it out. Freddie had been forced to broadcast a remix of some of the all time fan favorite iCarly moments in lieu of a live show the first week. Sam grudgingly agreed to an off-site broadcast from the Groovy Smoothie the second week and they just gave up the third week, announcing a "vacation" in honor of the upcoming prom. Carly had stopped trying to pry a reason out of Sam; she was completely silent on the topic and the last time Carly tried to press her on it, the look on Sam's face threatened imminent violence.

"Honestly," Carly complained to Freddie. "I don't know what's wrong with everyone lately! Sam's as prickly as that porcupine she and Spencer made a while back. Speaking of Spencer, he's descended into artistic madness, and Jake always discovers a sudden need to mow the lawn when I call."

Freddie coughed. "Umm, Carly, I think if you'd actually let him off the phone before the rooster crows, he'd probably be more excited when you called."

She huffed, "I'm not THAT bad! Am I?" Freddie just shook his head and kept on driving. He'd been pressed into service to drive the girls to their hair appointments; Spencer claimed to have to help Socko with an emergency at the sock factory. Carly couldn't imagine what emergency could possibly require Spencer's assistance, but she really didn't have time to think about that right now. This was it; prom was here and she wanted to enjoy every last moment.

Freddie pulled to a stop in front of Sam's house, where she was already waiting at the curb. Hopping in, she ordered "to the salon James!"

"Your wish is my command, Princess Puckett," he replied. "To the salon it is." And they were on their way.

Freddie returned them to the empty apartment a couple of hours later, reminding them sternly that the limo would be there promptly at 5:30 and had two other stops to make. "Don't be late!"

Carly had no intention of being late. She needed to take advantage of every last second, making the rounds of the senior class to drum up votes. "Come on Sam; let's get this show on the road." She dragged Sam up the stairs to complete their transformations into potential prom princesses.

Spencer arrived a few minutes past five to hear Carly's voice raised in panic. "Sam, I can't find them anywhere! Where did I put the earrings? "

"Carly, relax," Sam soothed. "You already put them in."

"I did?" She patted her ears. "Oh, I did." She looked sheepish. "Sorry Sam, I'm just so nervous!"

Sam squeezed her friend's hand. "Carly, you look fabulous. No matter what, it's going to be a night to remember. There's nothing more to do here. Like you said, let's just get this show on the road."

Carly nodded; there was no time like the present. She swept down the stairs to admiring applause from Freddie who had just walked in.

"You look beautiful, little sister!" Spencer called from the kitchen.

"Thanks Spencer," as an afterthought she added, "please get out of the kitchen until after we leave though. I will just CRY if anything catches on fire."

Spencer chuckled and started around the counter just as Sam descended the stairs. He was immobilized; she was breathtaking in a strapless gold and white floor length gown, and he was transported back to that moment in January that he had first envisioned her as a fairy tale princess.

"Stop right there," he said, looking around wildly for his paintbrush. She paused on the stairs, uncertain.

Carly apologized for him. "He's been loopy lately," she whispered from behind her hand.

Finding the brush, Spencer rushed over to the portrait and began making small changes. Surprisingly, he focused on the reflection in the water rather than Sam in the garden. Carly quickly lost interest, noting that the limo would arrive any minute. Sam, however, watched intently as Spencer worked. She thought this might be the sign she was looking for. It was time to play the hand.

Freddie clapped his hands together and announced "Ladies, the limo has arrived. Your public is waiting at the country club. Are you ready?"

"As ready as we're going to get," Carly answered for them. Sam continued down the stairs and they breezed out the door with Freddie in tow.

They arrived at the country club to an atmosphere of euphoric excitement; the senior class was high on life. Carly grabbed Jake and immediately began circulating, doing her best to be visible. On the opposite extreme, Sam fell back to the edge of the room, stopping occasionally to "take the temperature" of different groups of students. Teachers guarded the ballot boxes as students dropped their votes in on the way to the dining room.

Sam couldn't tell you what they ate; it didn't matter really. She was only here for Carly.

After dinner, the party started in earnest. Sam stayed on the fringes, content to watch the others having the time of their lives. She noticed there was some sort of excitement at the teachers' table. Interesting. Just then Freddie caught her eye from across the room. Wendy, Ridgeway's gossip queen, was whispering excitedly in his ear and he was pale as a ghost.

Sam went on red alert. Something was definitely up. She made a beeline for the pair, stopping Wendy before she could slip away. "Tell me whatever you just told him," she ordered.

Wendy glanced at Freddie, who nodded minutely. Tell her.

"The teachers are in a tizzy," she started. "There's a tie for prom court. It's never happened before and they're trying to decide what to do. I did a little umm… investigating and it sounds like Caroline and Courtney are definitely in." Sam nodded her understanding; the twins were currently at the top of their game due to a fortuitous and uncanny resemblance to the younger sister of a recently minted royal.

"So there's a tie for the third spot?" Sam prompted.

"Yes…" Wendy drew the word out. "Between Carly. And you."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty Three

"Have you told anyone else?" Wendy shook her head.

"Good. Keep it that way. I'm on it."

Freddie looked like he was going to throw up. He clutched her arm tightly. "Sam, what are you going to do?"

"Freddie, I promise everything will work out. Trust me." If Sam had asked him to trust her back at the beginning of the year, he would have turned tail and run. Things were different now. He nodded cautiously.

"Ok Sam. I hope you know what you're doing." He started pacing back and forth nervously as she set off for the teachers' table.

"Samantha Puckett!" Principal Franklin greeted her warmly. "I don't think I've seen you in my office since, oh, about Halloween."

"Well sir, I turned over a new leaf."

"Glad to hear it Sam. What can I do for you this evening?"

"Well sir, I thought I could do something for you. I heard you have something of a dilemma."

Principal Franklin raised his brow. "Oh you did, did you? How did you come by this information?"

Sam shrugged. "I just heard it around. "

He studied her for a moment. "Yes, Sam, we do have something of a dilemma. I have a solution in mind but I'm willing to listen to your suggestion."

Sam produced her prom ticket. "I didn't vote yet."

Principal Franklin frowned. "Sam, the balloting is closed."

"Yes sir, I realize that. I was in the ladies' room and I didn't hear the last call for ballots."

"Sam, there are a number of problems with this. Votes are supposed to be secret. If I accept this ballot from you, I will know how you voted and that principle is violated."

Sam rolled her eyes. "I'm perfectly willing to waive my right to a secret ballot. I'll put that in writing if you want. What's next?"

"You are a prom court nominee. If this late vote causes you to be elected to the court; it would be unfair to the other nominees and I could not ethically accept it."

Sam thought about this. "But you agree that if the ballot had been timely, I would have been entitled to vote any way I chose."

"Certainly," he agreed.

"Ted, I mean, Principal Franklin, I would really like for you to take this ballot. I understand and accept that you have the absolute right to refuse it if you think that's appropriate. Please just look at it, and then you can decide."

"Very well Sam. I'll take the ballot, but I can't promise that the vote will be counted."

Sam turned on the multi-megawatt smile. "Thank you! I know everyone is waiting for the results." She handed over her ballot. Although up to three votes were allowed, only one name was checked.

Principal Franklin studied the ballot for a moment, then folded it and put it in the breast pocket of his jacket. "Very interesting Samantha. You'll want to be getting back to your friends; the court will be announced momentarily."

Sam made her way back to Freddie, who was in danger of wearing a permanent path in the highly polished wood floor. "Please tell me this situation is under control," he pleaded.

"The situation is under control. I think."

"Oh no. We're doomed. Doomed I tell you!"

Carly approached from across the dance floor, Jake following meekly behind. Breathless, she grabbed Sam's hand." They're getting ready to announce the prom court! I swear I'm so nervous, I 'm going to pass out right here!" Jake looked less than pleased.

Freddie glanced over at him with a sympathetic smile. They were _all _going to want to pass out unless Sam had worked some magic.

"Ridgeway Class of 2012, please welcome this year's prom court!" Principal Franklin's voice rang out throughout the hall. "Greg McAlister! Caroline Caldwell! Alex Seung! Courtney Caldwell!" Carly bit her lip and looked over at Sam. Sam squeezed her hand, a silent, "it's ok girlfriend!"

Principal Franklin continued. "Dan Atwell!" He paused for just a moment – "and Carly Shay! Congratulations to all of this year's nominees. Each of you has been a positive force in our school and we are proud to recognize your efforts here tonight. "

Sam looked over at Carly; her eyes shone; face was glowing and she looked ready to float away. Sam hugged her tight; "Way to go Prom Princess!" she whispered.

Carly returned to reality long enough to reply. "Sam, I'm sorry you didn't make it."

"I'm not," she replied with a smile. "Go claim your crown woman!" Sam was sure that Carly's feet did not touch the ground on her way to the podium.

Freddie finally looked human again. He gave Sam a long look – the look that said I know you did something but I haven't figured out just what.

"What!" she exclaimed grumpily. "Why are you looking at me like that? Didn't I just save your butt from a night of misery?"

"You threw the election didn't you," he accused.

Sam shrugged. "She probably would have made it anyway."

"You don't know that! Sam, you just gave up a chance to be a prom princess! "

"It was always Carly's dream, not mine. It was definitely worth it. Just look at her Freddie, she's on cloud nine!"

"Sam, I have to tell you, I really admire what you've done. Not just here tonight, but the whole leaving Neverland thing – I give you a lot of credit. "He paused for a moment. "Are you going to tell her?"

She shook her head. "Of course not! She was elected fair and square. That's all she ever needs to know."


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty Four

Sam surveyed the room with satisfaction. Her work here was done. Turning to Freddie, she asked "how does this whole limo thing work? Are we paying by the mile or anything?"

Freddie was puzzled. "No, he's by the hour and my mom booked the car until 8AM. She didn't want me out driving around 'after hours,'" he admitted. "Why?"

"'Cause I have somewhere to go, but I wanted to make sure it was cool to take the limo. I'll send him straight back," she promised.

"Sam, it's SENIOR PROM. Where else could you possibly need to be tonight?"

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know!" she sassed.

Freddie sighed. "I guess some things never change."

"And why would you want them to?" she retorted.

"Sure, ok, I guess. But if that limo is not here at eleven, Carly is going to kill you. No, scratch that. Carly is going to kill ME, because I'll be the only one she can reach. "

"Thanks Freddie. Have fun!" She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and headed for the door, passing Principal Franklin on the way.

"Sam, leaving so soon? "

"Hey Principal Franklin, yeah, it's been real, but I have other fish to fry tonight. No offense; it's a nice party. "

"I'm glad I caught you then. I wanted to let you know that I'm really expecting great things from you Samantha. You have a lot of potential; I hope you'll put it to good use."

Sam was surprised, but flattered that he thought so highly of her. "Thank you sir, your confidence really means a lot to me. Honestly I thought you'd be celebrating the fact that I'm finally graduating!"

Principal Franklin shook his head. "Oh no, Sam. I've always known you had it in you. We just had to do a little polishing to get that gem to shine. And you're really shining tonight. No one else may ever know, but you know, and I know. And I'm very proud of you."

She didn't know what to say. Principal Franklin was proud of her! She guessed maybe she was pretty proud of herself.

"Good night Sam."

"Good night Principal Franklin."

Sam vanished into the dark.

The limo dropped her off at Bushwell Plaza a few minutes before ten. She tried to hold on to that 'on top of the world' feeling but the moment she exited the car she was gripped by nervous tension. She knew Carly had plans to attend a post-prom party and would not be back for hours. The moment of truth had arrived. She was clear on what she could not accept; she knew what she wanted to change. Glancing up at the star-filled sky, she prayed that she would not have to walk away.

Spencer was still fussing over his portrait of Sam. Truthfully there was very little left to be done, but it was his only connection to her. This afternoon was the first time he'd seen her in three weeks, and they'd been the longest three weeks of his life. Countless hours of listening to the sparring Spencers had not brought him any closer to a resolution. He loved her, but he believed he should not. It was now clear that she had feelings for him, but he believed he should discourage them. Good Spencer was really looking the worse for wear, disheveled, unshaven (did muses even _need_ to shave?) and resembling a hobo more than anything else.

"You'd look like this too if you were the one doing all the work keeping him on the straight and narrow!" Good Spencer snapped.

Interestingly, Bad Spencer was looking less devilish. In fact, his horns had disappeared and his tail had shrunk almost to nothing. He looked like what Spencer was _supposed_ to look like when he wasn't hosting a re-enactment of the Civil War in his head. Perhaps this meant something, but Spencer was too beaten down to care.

He was zoned out in front of the portrait when he heard her come home.

Sam kicked off her shoes and collapsed on the couch with a sigh. "Carly made prom court. Be sure to congratulate her when she gets home," Sam said in Spencer's general direction.

"Hey, that's really great… You're home, I mean, you're back awfully early. Is everything ok?" He was instantly worried. Had something happened?

For a moment Sam considered saying that everything was NOT ok; it was not ok at all. But "everything's fine" was what came out instead. She leaned back into the cushions and started pulling bobby pins from her hair. Spencer jumped up; "Hold on, hold on! I'll help you with that." He disappeared for a moment, returning with a hairbrush. Standing behind her, he extracted the pins carefully and started methodically brushing, just as he had seen Freddie do with such success.

Sam just meant to close her eyes for a minute; she really needed to talk to Spencer but the brushing was so soothing…The emotional rollercoaster was taking its toll and she started to shut down.

Spencer continued brushing long after Sam crashed, pretending that he had to untangle just one more knot. But of course, there were no knots. When his hand cramped up from clutching the brush so tightly, he finally gave up and went to bed.

Sleep was a long time coming - the Spencers were gearing up for one last stand.

Bad Spencer was cool and calm; he directed his comments to the hobo occupying real estate on Spencer's other shoulder. "Have you ever wondered why he hasn't had an actual girlfriend in years? Has it occurred to you that someone up there has other plans for him?"

Good Spencer looked woozy; he had to hold himself up by leaning on Spencer's ear. "You're jus looking for a way to juss – juss – jussify…"

Bad Spencer shook his head in disgust. "I'm not justifying. I'm endeavoring to enlighten you regarding your faulty thinking."

"I don...know wha you jus said," Good Spencer slurred, and collapsed in a heap. Bad Spencer shrugged and disappeared.

Spencer covered his head with the pillow and squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe he could transport himself to some _other_ dimension where imaginary beings didn't rule his life.

Sometime past midnight, Sam was jolted awake by a bizarre dream of miniature Spencers carrying what looked like picket signs and shouting slogans that she could not hear. Well, at least one was a miniature Spencer. She thought the other one might be a hobo. How strange!


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: Another heartfelt thank you to all readers and reviewers; please keep it up!

Chapter Twenty Five

Sam shook her head. That hobo really was kind of creepy. She headed for the kitchen in search of ham; that would definitely make her feel better. Yep, good decision. She needed all the help she could get. Thus fortified, she moved upstairs to get ready for bed.

She thought about how many nights she had done exactly this, standing in the doorway, watching him sleep. Slipping quietly into "her" spot, drifting off knowing he was near - always to wake and find him gone. Her therapist told her that insanity could be defined as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Therefore, if you really want different results, you must "do something different," she whispered.

Spencer was accustomed to waking in the middle of the night to find her beside him. He was accustomed to tugging the covers up over her to ward off the chill. He was accustomed to retreating to the lumpy couch to sleep, or not. He was even accustomed to the bickering Spencers, who alternately praised and vilified her. All of these things to which he was accustomed were based upon one single reality – the reality of the sleeping Sam. Even when she shed her T shirt in favor of lace, that reality was preserved. So it was safe to say that one thing to which he was NOT accustomed, was waking to find Sam with her eyes wide open, watching him.

She had closed the gap between them and lay with her head pillowed on the crook of her arm, watching his chest rise and fall. Her free hand sought out his, entangling their fingers together. He sprang instantly awake. "Sam! You're… not sleeping, "he finished lamely.

A small smile. "No, I can't sleep. I had the weirdest dream about a hobo…"

Spencer looked at her strangely. "Did the hobo…say anything?" he asked in trepidation. He realized he had not let go of her hand and started to pull away, but she would not let him.

"Spencer!"

He looked everywhere except at her, playing for time that had run out.

"Spencer!" Her voice was insistent. "Spencer, look at me."

Sam wanted to cry; the man looked positively tortured. She bit her lip and reminded herself fiercely that big girls _don't _cry. "Spencer, this is crazy!" She sat up and rested her back against the headboard. "I can't go on like this. I mean, if you didn't care about me at all, maybe I could find some way to deal but I feel like there's something there, it 's not just me. I know it's not." She paused and waited for some kind of response – any response.

Still nothing.

"Will you please tell me what is going on in your head? Because I really don't understand. Spencer, I _love_ you! I have been trying so hard to show you that we belong together. From my perspective, there is nothing standing in the way of a relationship besides-"

"Me, myself, and I," he finished quietly. He sat up beside her. "Sam…" What could he say? A house divided cannot stand, and he was definitely a house divided. Good Spencer would say that he was too old, or that she was too young. Perhaps he should listen to Bad Spencer and say that she brought out the best in him, that his art was expanding in directions it would never had taken without her presence in his life. Should he say that her smile lit up his world, or that his love for her was tearing him apart? He was completely torn, knowing that he must respond, but unable to say yes and equally unable to say no.

He could see the tears gathering. "Why are you fighting this? Why are you fighting _me _so hard?" she whispered.

"Sam, I'm so sorry…"

Not sorry, no please don't be sorry, she thought to herself. Sorry means I lose. Sorry means I have to walk away… She leapt from the bed and fled the room, trying not to burst into tears.

Spencer was paralyzed by the dueling muses, feeling sick with the _wrongness_ of what had just occurred. He looked up at the ceiling as though he could see through clear to the heavens. "What do you want me to do?" The question was anguished."Love is not supposed to be this way!"

Bad Spencer appeared in the blink of an eye. "You know, you're going to lose her if you don't do something, and do it now."

"LOSE her!" Good Spencer cried. "He never had her in the first … oh who am I kidding? He's right!" Good Spencer wailed and slumped in defeat. "He's right! You have to do something!"

Spencer bolted from the room, hoping it wasn't too late.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty Six

Damn but she was tired of running away. The word "loser" should _not_ apply to her. She, Samantha Puckett, was not a coward or a quitter. There _had_ to be some way to get through to Spencer. Her eyes were drawn to the portrait of Sam in the Garden and she moved slowly over to stand in front of it. The painting held special meaning for her; it proved that Spencer could envision her as an adult. She knew he could see that Sam. He was an artist – a sculptor. Didn't he want to be the one to bring that Sam to life? And then she knew. The way to get through to Spencer was to speak to him in a language that he understood.

She gathered supplies and moved swiftly to the studio. Plopping down cross-legged on the floor, she opened the sketch book and started to draw. She might not have Spencer's technical expertise, but she did have some measure of natural ability, and a whole _boatload_ of motivation. The Garden of the Epiphany began to grow up under her hand, not a tended and pruned garden, but a wild and untamed one. Sam was on a mission.

Spencer tore through the apartment like a whirling dervish, intent on finding her before she disappeared, maybe for the last time. How much angst could you lay at one woman's feet before she wrote you off as a lost cause? With the capitulation of Good Spencer, he finally felt whole again, and there was one thing he knew for certain. He didn't want to become Sam's lost cause. He moved anxiously from one room to the next, sending a silent prayer of gratitude towards the sky when he saw the light beneath the studio door. He entered cautiously, expecting to find, well, a hot mess. He wasn't certain he knew how to handle a hot mess, but he was for sure going to give it his best shot.

He stopped just inside the doorway, shaking his head in confusion. As he had done so many times before where Sam was involved, he had to do a double take. There was no ranting or raving, no screaming or shouting, no cursing, no crying, no tantrums or pouting. Only Sam hard at work, a faint smile on her face – and of the hot mess, he found not a trace. [A/N: Sorry! Getting late & getting punchy; just couldn't resist!]

Spencer moved closer to see what exactly she was doing. She didn't _look _upset anymore, but for all he knew, she could be writing a Dear John letter. PLEASE don't be writing a Dear John letter! No, it definitely wasn't a letter. Sam was sketching something.

"You're going to hurt your back," he said without thinking, and moved to sit down behind her so that she could lean against him. She did not comment, just continued with her drawing. He observed in silence for some time, waiting for the general theme to emerge. He recognized the garden, although Sam's version was … different. Playful pixies peeked out from behind tangles of wild blooms. She had just begun to sketch the outlines of two human figures; their hands were joined and they wore faerie crowns of ivy and wildflowers. Quite suddenly she turned to look at him. "Will you help me? I'm not so good at drawing real people."

Slowly he reached around to guide her hand. "What are the people supposed to look like?" he asked quietly, although he already knew.

"They should look like two people who see that the world is an amazing and magical place. They should look like two people who will always be young, because they appreciate life and love and the human spirit. They should look like two people who know their own hearts and minds, and are not afraid."

He nodded thoughtfully. She always surprised him.

"I can't reach very well." Without asking, he picked her up and settled her in his lap. "Look what happens when you use shading here, like this…" His hand closed over hers. Two heads bent over the picture, dark and light. The muses were silent; Spencer felt oddly free. He was at peace in this moment with Sam.

The hour grew later and Sam dropped the pencil with a sigh. "I'm tired," she said simply.

Spencer smoothed a stray curl and smiled. "Then sleep… will you come back to bed Samantha?" She did not answer at once, and the room grew so quiet, he imagined he could hear his own heartbeat. Definitely he could _feel _it, trying to beat out of his chest.

Sam rose and he sprang from the floor like a jack in the box. She turned to look at him, and their eyes locked. "Will you stay?" she asked quietly.

He held his hand out to her in answer, and she reached to take it. Those good for nothing muses could at least have cued the music before they left! [A/N: Just a Kiss / Lady Antebellum!] Pulling her close, Spencer finally did what he _should _have done long ago. He kissed her.

It was a gentle kiss, tender and sweet. A kiss that said I treasure you, cherish you, hold you in my heart. Sam was moved to tears.

She allowed herself to be led back to what she suddenly began thinking of as "their room." She allowed herself to be tucked into "their bed," but this time was different. This time she didn't curl up alone on the edge. This time he slipped in beside her and closed his arms around her. Holding her close he whispered, "Goodnight Sam. I love you."

"I love you too…" and all was right in the world.

From far away he thought he heard the sound of glasses clinking in a toast.


	27. Chapter 27

Epilogue

Carly dragged herself in around 7AM, surprised that the apartment was quiet. Spencer was usually up long before this, making breakfast, drinking coffee, or puttering around with his latest creation. She noted that the couch was empty. One or the other of them had been on the couch every weekend for months. Hmm… she supposed Sam could have gone home, but there were her shoes abandoned in the floor. She supposed that Spencer could have gone out, but there were his keys hanging on the hook. Exhausted, she headed to her room. Nope, Sam wasn't there either. She _could_ be in the studio, but Carly suddenly doubted it. There was somewhere else they were both likely to be. She might have been distracted lately, ok, maybe a little self-absorbed, but that didn't mean she was completely oblivious. Carly dropped her gown on the floor and fell into bed, making one announcement to the universe at large before sinking into oblivion. "Well it's about damn time!"

A/N: Friends, we made it! We finally know that it's possible for Spencer and Sam to have a future. When I started this story, my original intention was to get us to where we are now. As I wrote I realized that I _could_ keep going (at the risk of this fix taking over my life!) But I think it's best to quit while you're ahead, and the best stories leave something to the imagination. So the only thing I can say for sure is that the Oscar Mayer Weiner jingle no longer plays when Sam calls. Spencer reprogrammed his phone, and it now plays Smile, by Uncle Kracker. I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing; maybe I'll get back to this pair at some point, as I've grown quite attached to them along the way : )


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